


Watching from a Distance

by firedup



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Established Relationship, Fantasizing, Light mentions of past non-con, M/M, light blood play, not exactly explicit but still pretty NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedup/pseuds/firedup
Summary: Zha'di can't help fantasizing about his mate sometimes, especially when he's wearing robes...





	Watching from a Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Zha'di is mine, Dakojan is my rp-partner's, trolls are Blizzard's.

Dakojan was wearing _those_ robes again.

 

Grant you, they were ceremonial. Grant you, they were (apparently) made to please the Loa, not mortal eyes.

 

But looking at him in that outfit always made Zha‘di wonder if the Loa just liked them skimpy.

 

The lower part was not much more than a sarong, so heavily decorated that it rode… pretty low on the hips. The upper part was a pectoral made from bones, beads, and not much else. It left little to the imagination on a woman, and nothing on a man. (Because the women got _a little_ more fabric, at least.)

 

And it drove Zha‘di crazy at the best of times. Which certainly weren‘t now. Not when Dako was sitting together with the rest of the _bokur_ , talking Loa-business.

 

Loa-business wasn‘t his business and he knew better than to intrude upon a gathering of _bokur_ \- unless he wanted to croak instead of talking for the next hour- but… _fuck_.

 

Zha‘di settled down at a distance and resigned himself to waiting, unhooking Bob from his belt and setting him down on the ground. Immediately, the little sentient bomb began scuttling around him on stumpy legs, looking for something to investigate. Like bugs. Or twigs.

 

„Don‘t go blowin‘ anythin‘ up.“, Zha‘di told him, unnecessarily. Despite frequent threats to explode when he didn‘t get what he wanted (like attention, or being petted), Bob had never shown the slightest inclination to do so. He was pretty embarassing, as bombs went, but Zha‘di had never quite… gotten around to… dismantling him.

 

Leaving the bomb to its own devices, Zha‘di leaned back against a palm tree, took out his pistols and started cleaning them, a task which he had done so often that his fingers now performed it on automatic, leaving his eyes free to roam over the jungle and watch the trolls gathered in front of the temple outside Bambala. Especially Dako.

 

Since aligning more with the Bear, the `shifter had gained quite a lot of muscle, Zha‘di noted, not for the first time, and with approval. Not so much as to be bulky, no amount of training would do that. But the gangly-lanky troll whose ear he had half-bitten off in their first brawl had turned into a much more powerful-looking specimen… one who had a much easier time of it holding Zha‘di down if he chose to, despite all his writhing, attempts to bite, or jam a tusk into an eye.

 

That thought shouldn‘t have sent a shiver down Zha‘di‘s spine, or make his groin feel suddenly tight like it did. He‘d been held down before. It hadn‘t been pleasant. But this was _Dako_. The one troll under whose hands he felt… right.

 

… right. Hands. His had stilled on the barrel of the pistol, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, cursing. It wasn‘t like him to let himself get this distracted, in fact, Dako routinely teased him about what he called his ‚paranoia‘ and Zha‘di called his survival instincts.

 

_Concentrate._

 

With renewed vigour, he set to work again.

 

Across the clearing, Dako was gesticulating, short, terse movements that shook the mass of red braids that spilled down his back, half-covering the tattoos that Zha‘di knew were there, even if he couldn‘t see more than lighter and darker areas of skin from where he sat. It didn‘t matter, he knew the design by heart. How often had he traced the bold lines with his tongue, slowly, just-so touching, or with broad, sloppy strokes, the tips of his short but sharp tusks scratching twin lines of beading blood on either side of the inked design… until Dako, having had enough, would suddenly round on him, the `shifters own, sharp teeth sinking into Zha‘di‘s neck. And Zha‘di would sink his nails into that tattooed back to keep him there, when he wasn‘t already too busy grabbing his belt and fumbling it open with hands that had been rendered clumsy by sheer need.

 

The thought of what would inevitably follow made him bite his lip... then made him want to slap himself. So much for concentrating. What the fel was _wrong_ with him today? Those fucking robes… maybe he should have a talk with the caste leader about allowing her _bokur_ to wear something else.

 

Or maybe not. A brief vision of him trying to explain _that_ to the older troll woman flashed through his mind and, cringeing, he pushed the idea aside. What would he say, „You gotta allow Dako to wear something other than that robe because it‘s damned distracting and keeps making me horny.“?

 

Right, that‘d work out real well.

 

No, he‘d rather keep suffering. Imagining what it would be like to be hitching that robe up, bit by bit, over his legs…

 

That was the nice thing about robes: They made things so very easy. No need to undress, he could just slip his hand beneath and find his prize. Usually while Dako was busy inscribing something, because Zha‘di was evil like that and delighted in the suppressed growls and moans his mate would make trying to ignore him and keep his hands steady so he could finish crafting the runes he‘d, more often than not, been paid to make. He couldn‘t just swat him away without spilling the ink or spoiling the rune, and so Zha‘di would tease him any way that came to mind, with his hands or nails or sometimes, when he was feeling really daring, his mouth, and listen to the promises of dire retribution Dako ground out between clenched teeth.

 

As long as the rune wasn‘t finished- or Dako ran out of patience- he was safe.

 

And... he‘d zoned out again. Sighing, Zha‘di put his pistols away, giving it up for a bad job. By now his trousers really _were_ feeling tight and he was seriously considering breaking up the meeting, croaking be damned. Didn‘t look like it‘d be over anytime soon and he wasn‘t sure how much longer he could wait without resorting to… desperate measures.

 

„Come onnn…. what‘s so damned important eh?“, he growled to himself, leaning his head back against the tree. If the old myth about being able to feel when someone looked at you were true, he was sure Dako would be _flying_ toward him. Or, walking would do, really. Prowling would be even better. Slowly, so Zha‘di could watch and admire every movement of his mate‘s slim, tattooed body, with that look on his face that made Zha‘di feel as if he were indeed the designated prey of some great predator, that look that said „mine“ and never failed to send a shiver down his spine, nor to make his breath catch in his throat. There was always that thrill of real fear when Dako crouched down between his legs- a remnant of his past that Zha‘di doubted he‘d ever quite get rid of, although by now he almost enjoyed it, because it was always followed up by the touch of the man he loved. Be it Dakos clever hands ghosting up his sides under his leather armor, or his breath on his neck, or his teeth nicking an ear… nevermind, it all had Zha‘di breathless within a matter of moments, well-nigh helpless and so far from minding that state it was almost ridiculous, just as long as he could be with Dako after wanting him for so long and being unable to get over himself.

 

Helplessness never lasted long, though. Half the fun was making Dako fight for it- they _were_ trolls, after all- and both of them would be bleeding by the time they collapsed, spent, on the furs, into the grass, or onto whatever surface they happened to be standing on at the time. Bleeding, and sticky, and tangled up, from their legs to their matched necklaces to their hair, sometimes, Dako‘s red and Zha‘di‘s blue-black...

 

Fingers snapping in the air in front of his face snapped him out of his trance. Startled, he sat up and looked straight at the one troll he had been fantasizing about for the last half-hour.

Dako chuckled at him. „What da fuck ya been t‘inkin‘ bout, mon, when I gotta wake ya up like dis?“

 

Oh, fel. He was never going to hear the end of this… „Why don‘cha find out…?“

 

Something about his grin gave Dakojan pause, and the shapeshifter‘s eyes narrowed. He knew this look, this particular kind of tension… that, and the tent in Zha‘di‘s trousers was really kind of hard to overlook.

 

„Uh, dunno, it gonna be interestin‘? Cuz I still got work to….-“

 

He was still grinning, shit-eatingly so, when Zha‘di grabbed him by the hair and hauled him off bodily into the jungle.

 

*

 

On the outskirts of Bambala, a small, rotund device was scuttling peacefully around on stubby metal legs, investigating blades of grass and waiting for its master to return and collect it. He always did.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The robes in question are the Hexing Robes from Zul'Aman, in case you were wondering (yes, I know they look a bit different ingame but hey, artistic freedom ;) ). They're sort of a running gag between my rp-partner and me, which prompted me to write this in the first place. 
> 
> 2\. In case you got hung up on the 'caste-leader': This is specific to my guild, where new arrivals go through a phase of tests and trials before they become full members (tribesmen) and can then pick a 'caste' according to what they do best. There's the priest caste, called "Bokur", the Jungle Walkers who are scouts, skirmishers and providers, and the Gahanka, the warriors who also act as bodyguards. The leaders of each caste answer directly to the chieftain(s). This has nothing whatsoever to do with religious caste systems from our world! 
> 
> 3\. Yes, Zha'di really does have the walking bomb pet ingame. Yes, I really named it "Bob". If you ever played Super Mario you'll know why ;)


End file.
